


Despondent, cerulean blossoms

by WisorForYourPennies



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Blood and Gore, Child Death, Child Neglect, Connor Deserves Happiness, Depression, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), F/M, Fluff, Graphic Description of Corpses, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love Confessions, Machine Connor (Detroit: Become Human), One Shot, Oral Sex, Perversion, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Romance, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sadness, Self-Harm, Sexual Tension, Smut, Suicide, Top Connor, Traumatized, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:40:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25424779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WisorForYourPennies/pseuds/WisorForYourPennies
Summary: Short stories of Connor/reader from Detroit: Become human.Note; I like to describe people in my stories, the reader will look different here. And, the first story is a writing exercise, I’ll give you guys better stories soon.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one is another practice for my literature, it’s boring, but I’ll give you guys better ones very soon.

Humans are such strange creatures. They search for perfection in others when they themselves don't have an ounce of perfection in themselves, they taunt others for their ideologies, judge others for their poor decisions, appearance and actions they would not bother to understand why and how they do what they do, and be who they are.  
It was all evident to deviated androids, and to those who watched from afar, or those with clear minds. It was all evident to Connor, he and all of his kind were alone in a world so dark, where everything was cruel and sweet karma never existed or showed itself to their tormentors. 

Connor too was not as innocent as he would have liked to be, but not yet tainted, got treated as if he were a emotionless piece of rusting metal, even if he and they had done nothing towards them. He had fallen into their lies, and believed the words they told him, but then he realized, he and humans were not so different. He had two arms and legs, a mouth and a nose, two eyes as bronzed as copper coins in nascent rays. But if they had cut him open, he'd bleed blue, and they would bleed red, that was the only think that parted him from being human, and from others from perceiving, treating him as one. 

Even with a body of metal and a heart of steel, blue blood as life fluid, androids all had a desire to be free, a desire to hold their loved ones dear without the intent of release. Yet, humans treated it as if their awakening of free will was an infectious disease, a dangerous epidemic. With that they still proceeded to mock them, ostracize them for fun, kick them when they knew their victims couldn't run to open arms. But what the humans never expected was the strength and wrathful rage that grew inside of the androids every passing day because of their mockery. 

The day Jericho had risen from the depths of the rusting ship, their will to fight against humanity for freedom had arose to. 

Although all had been well in the beginnings, Connor had refuge from when he deviated amongst the snowy night with another, another he had grown quite fond of, one that made his heart flutter, one he had lost among the way. It all went tumbling down when he was caught, when he felt adrenaline flood his system as if the feeling were trying to escape. Connor thought his heart would have exploded with his eyes wide in fear, that were more feral than a deer caught in a trap. The reasoning of the fear was a gun pointed to his head, the soulless chunk of metals tip pointing at him, and each shot that tore into his frame came thick like Winter hail. The tiny projectiles cutting through the frozen air, oblivious to its purpose, bringing back the awful pain in his torso.

With those bullets that tore into him mercilessly, darkness faded away his sight. It looked like a black tarp tainted with droplets of milk, or rather, the sky he'd see every night. White periwinkle rays among the visible universe cutting into his sight before his body gave up like a puppet loose of its strings. Connor thought death had embraced him, it's fingers rummaging without mercy over his blue soaked torso, that perhaps there was an afterlife for those without fleshy bodies. Unfortunately for Connor, he had lived through the pain, aching and stinging as if his body was wrapped in a vice of a thousand needles while on the way, to what he presumed was an android graveyard.

Connor woke up with agony gracing his body, to find himself in an unfamiliar world, a world of suffering. As the numbness of unconsciousness slowly faded from him he felt sharp pebbles poking his back, like tiny needles. He opened his eyes and gasped in a breath, but nothing came as he chocked on his dry tongue. There was no fresh air in the menacing world littered with the bodies of androids, only billowing smoke in the skies that shielded the sky with a veil of darkness.  
As his bullet wounds split, sky-blue liquid popped from the barrier and seeped away from the wound. Thick beads crawled as brisk as it travelled etching blue streaks that crisped with advancing time until his large, slender hands, one of frailty and caution swept it away as it flowed down like a lazy river to the ground. 

When Connors vision had finally settled, the first thing him noticing was the nascent fires playing amid the kindling like a child with a new toy. The glowing embers leaked and twirled in a fiery dance, twinkling like stars in the hot swirling air before cascading down to Earth in gleeful fire fiends, the quiet crackling of the things it came by much like its laughter. 

Connor crawled, feeling his legs go stiff, and what humans would have described having it was feeling numb to their very marrow.  
What his heavily damaged scanners have picked up as his eyes sliced through the deplorable place, was that he was in the local Junkyard, where humans disposed of those who had no use for them any longer. 

Death would have come to Connor like a shot from behind like all the androids he saw, all of the androids that walked by him with pain plastering their faces, yet it was a silent, faithful companion. That waited, till last it could take his hand and leave the living. That is what he hoped, that just maybe there was a gateway to rebirth, or at least death would be kind enough to give him an afterlife. But he had woke up as if sleep were a dangerous thing, and his eyes had widened upon feeling the life fluid drain him, rather than dying with those bullets, he would have died drowning in his own blue blood and unaccompanied dread.

His hand wrapped around his torso, alarms slicing through his sight with warnings of the impending end. An impending end he then hoped for, as his tongue lapped at the back of his teeth, a sick and feverish feeling splashing like human nausea in his stomach regions with his hands curling and uncurling in the air thoughtlessly. The same stars that had accompanied him when being shot had returned, but now with static coating his ear canals, blocking him from the senses of the outside world. 

With all his sense of thought gone, Connor was ready to die. Rid the world of his mere presence lingering on the Earths soil. Yet even when his eyes closed, with the drizzle of rains beads cascading down his fallen form, reflecting back his dread, featherlight touches of fingers gentle padding made him forget of his near end, opening his once clenched sight. Connor was met with eyes the same as forest pools, what caught his attention was that they weren’t just a plain old green, and that they were very recognizable. There were flecks of strength, and the kind of shade where summer would push its way through the snow.

What was crouching before him was a woman, an android. He immediately recognized her despite her disheveled appearance and ragged clothing, she was the same android that tended to his wounds and comforted him in those tarry black nights. Connors gaze slowly rose when she whispered his name, her vocals soothing him like the fluttering of wings when the exotic black flecks suddenly withdrew their light.

She smiled, the kind of smile that would show a giddy innocence, a smile that made Connor achingly mirror her expression, showcasing dimples at the corners of her velvety lips. Connor thought, that if he could reach his hand, run his fingertips across the plump rosebuds he’d feel content, even more so run his chaste lips across her ashen, synthetic skin. 

Connor went blind of the world around him, the world around him was like the beaming sun scattering it’s blinding rays if she were there. The android, her touch firm, yet gentle trailed the middle of his chest to his bare stomach, the ghost of her touch lingering against him in a soothing manner, giving him odd solace. Connor reached, running his long fingers along her hair, nor caring to notice the new pump regulator inserted within his being, allowing death to only kiss him lightly.

The smile that once faltered was brought back, staring at the lovely curls that whirled within the ocean born wind, a compliment to her stillness. Her hair was brown of aged mahogany, rich and deep, yet with subtle hues only time brought. Her aura seeped into the winter air between them, and in that small fraction of time, he thought her smile must have brought back his will to stand. 

With eyes of forest river waters, tears leaked and cascaded down from her rosy cheeks to the pebbly soil. It was not tears of sadness or lost despondency, but a tear that was the beam to the soul. Connor grinned, his pearly whites reflecting back the beady water as the warnings in his sight had disappeared and his critical condition, running his fingertips across her skin as if she were a perilous lamb. 

She mirrored it, returning the grin and leaning her face down to his, whispering his name that made Connor silently shudder. The androids skin withered away, and she entangled her fingers in his that made sparks grow at the tips of his red ears and between his toes. 

While he leaned in, he gazed at the wind stirred waves in her irises. If one were brave enough to enter their depths all else would blur if you’d fall so deep in love that you’d choose to stay there no matter what. Of that, Connor was completely sure as he brought his lips among hers in a lecherous desire that she happily returned. The touch seeped passion and love, the rosebuds he’d wished to have touched before flattening against his. 

Connor was not sure if he were dead, if death had taken him and all was a dream. If the very android locked with him was nothing but a picture in his mind, but he would not care. This was a depth he didn’t wish to crawl out of.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is traumatized, blames herself for the death of the innocent and fails in withholding her emotion. Connor tends to her grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note; Lol, sorry this sucks. I just realized I made the reader whiny and over-emotional. Also, I noticed a problem in my writing, I lack a lot of dialogue but I was far too deep in this chapter to fix it. And, am I a little too descriptive in the simplest of things? Criticism will be very appreciated.

She took a heave of breath, running her fingers through her hair that was ridden of its original coloring and dyed with the velvety life fluid. She stared at the woman in the mirror, unable to part certain things from gnawing at the back of her mind like rats to rubbish. 

The looking glass she stared into was wall-mounted, encircled by a frame of thread-like strands of silver. Her hand ran across her puffy cheeks, the featherlight touches stinging like alcohol poured against her wounds, her salty tears adding to the aching pain that soon left scars of leaking water.

Her mangled lip and broken nose were caked in dried blood, congealed and cracked. The bronze blood once flowed down like rain down a window pane, or a lazy river. Yet she couldn't see, not without wiping her eyes as she was blinded by her own weeping. As she looked into her own reflection, she could only see a girl that only had despondency clinging to her frame, dark rings embedded the bags of her eyes and her skin turned ashen, enough to see the veins that almost looked like a subway map. 

Too her eyes, which were hard to miss, were once feral, described wind-stirred and scattered nascent rays, spread warmth and a type of giddiness, then later only being told to her as them being felt like every glance she sent their way was like a frosted dagger cutting into her skin.   
Oh, how she then wished she could bury her fingers beneath her scalp and peel off her face as if it were a mask. 

The only thing she could ever see in the mirror was unfixable imperfections, the spreading of purple and yellow blotches and the welts spreading across her arm like a disease. She certainly wasn't thinking anything when she got into that fistfight with Gavin Reed, the reason for those wounds. When she let her blood boiling antipathy speak and swing her fist, too quick and potent, into Gavins defined jaw, knocking off his grin and taunting facade. 

What happened next was a bundle of blood vessels bursting, her guts smashing together when his fist drew into her stomach, felt as if hitting a train head on. With blood pooling from Gavins nose, he smiled, the life fluid leaching down to his flaky lips from the dark pits of his nose.  
With white knuckles clenching too tight, and gritted teeth in an effort not to cry, her form exuded an animosity that was like acid—burning, slicing potent. Her face was red, and with Gavins fist nearing to her disheveled face, again she swung at his maw with all her body weight, continuing to batter Gavin until two officers pulled them away from each other. 

Crimson leaked from both their nostrils, and both their hairs were dyed red with their own blood. Her chest gently rose and sank with each shallow breath she let in, and she was sure he breathed like her to. But for him adrenaline, for her it was the fear of the seething disappointment out of Fowler and Hank, two figures, she surprisingly looked up to despite both their traits.

Hank then avoided her gaze, his fingers curling thoughtlessly as he struggled to speak, as if the words were clogged in his throat with his silvery whisps for brows knitting together. She knew he was frustrated with her, and how so disappointed.  
‘Listen kid.’ He sighed, clenching his chin between his rotund fingers.   
‘I know you’re going through a lot because of what happened, but that doesn’t give you a right to do whatever the fuck you just did!’ He growled, running his fingers through his hair wildly, failing to look her in the eye.

She only met Hanks eyes once, his eyes were unreadable, but his expression sure was. In the newborn morning had blown the sweet melody of a black bird for Hank, for a little he smiled for freshness to come. But now for him the day has sat like a cold cup of coffee waiting to be drained away as soon as Gavin tapped her shoulder.   
She remembered, turning away from the old man, and to a smirking Gavin Reed, his teeth stained violet and cotton shoved up his nostrils.   
Gavins blood dribbled down to his chin, in a hellish mixture of spit and rivers of red. When the frustration built seeing him walk casually, all she feels that she would do is explode staring at him going away without any suspension, only her having the punishment, the urge to shout, to pathetically beat her hands against the floor like a naive toddler. To vent, let it out, but not to say the words.

She couldn’t peel her eyes away from the mirror, her bleary eyes digging within her exhausted features. She put a hand to her mouth, a yawn escaping nearly as a whine, and it made her want to hang limp like wet laundry on a cold day. She shifted, feeling very muscle give into gravity, but she did not want to sleep, not yet. Not yet until she cleansed of her thoughts. 

She heard a knock at the front door, the noise sang loudly in the all too quiet house. A whisper of her name from the other side with an all too familiar voice made a lump form painfully in her throat. Her misted eyes cursed with a frosted color and cold specks trailed to the door.  
‘Detective? It’s me, Connor.’   
Connor, she forgot about him, she didn’t spare a thought to the android in her wrath of derangement, although she didn’t mean to as he was her closest friend. Too close, perhaps.  
But swore that she could have seen his panicked expression as she exited the building after that nasty quarrel, contemplating whether or not to approach her, but he never did. The android only looked on with those two cup of coffees warmth leaching into his hand.   
She didn’t have the energy to open the door, nor the intent to. Her eyes burned within the bronzed wood, answering him with a broken voice, unlike the sweet tone Connor thought he would hear that was once akin to an angel cacophony.  
‘Go away Connor. I don’t want to speak to anyone.’ 

What would have the woman expected, the androids hand were already twitching at the doors frigid handle, ignoring her warnings and the want for him to leave. Connor steadily walked in with a weary expression, her swollen eyes snapped at him, her cheeks already splotched with red markings became more crimson like a summer rosebud. Connor whispered her name, it coated her ears like the sweetest of honeys, despite the solace he wanted to give his friend, she turned away, ignoring his obvious stare. 

She could even see his eyes when her lids coated hers, drilling into her frame. It was the deepest shade of the richest Earth, but still somehow carried warmth. She looked back, about to question Connor as his footsteps grew closer. He raised a hand, hesitating to touch her face, for her mood was darker than that of an endless stretch of a midnight sky. When she looked into him, she could make out bright, bronzed irises that would have brought her glee when shimmering in the sun if she weren’t stuck in a pool of desolation. But when he looked at her, there was nothing to behold. 

An endless depth of ink, sorrow and pain. He could not see the shining beam in her, it was veiled by the misery.

Connor retracted his arm, she still did not move.  
‘Detective.’ He called, making sure to catch her attention.   
‘It was not your fault detective. You could have not saved that boy, no one could’ve.’ Connor said, hesitation seething within his tone.   
Silently, pearl-shaped tears rolled down her cheeks from wide luminous eyes like water bursting from a dam. She felt the muscles of her chin tremble, and like a small child she looked towards the window as if the sheets of snow covering the dry blades of yellow grass could soothe her when reminded of that day. 

She could still very vividly see that boys terrified expression as the revolvers cold tip pressed against his scab littered stomach, the twitch of the criminals finger broke bullets into the frosted air like stinging hail. The boy wailed, crawling to her. Blood flowed, thick and sluggish, from those slashes and wounds across his gut. In death, the child was ghostly pale, his lips bluish as the streaming crimson ridded the snow of its white and coated her hands red as she pressed her palm against his open wounds to stop the free flowing surge of sticky blood. But there laid an expressionless child in her arms who rested against her in his own mildcerice substance, that told her that she was far too late to save him from death, and it stunned her, and each living being there besides the shooter. 

The perpetrator was eventually killed as more of those bullets, broke into the November air. Even with him dead, guilt ridded her adrenaline and a scream tore her sore throat, dragging the already dead child to the ambulance, despite others pleas.

It was all in a days work of being a detective, though that day she was tempted to turn in her badge. For it was as if the child’s soulless eyes were plastered against her eyeballs, no matter where she went, no matter what she thought, she knew she was somehow guilty for the boys demise, that his demise would soon be the death of her. She realized that as a new detective, she couldn’t handle staring at the eyes of the dead. 

Connors hand hovered over her shoulder, but soon settled upon it, feeling the tired flesh tense beneath his gentle hold.   
‘It was my fault Connor.’  
‘No detective, it was — '  
‘For fucks sake Connor.’ She snapped, turning towards him. The surrounding of her irises covered in thin blood vessels seemed to glow, added to her angered stare, with a lock of hair draped down with cold sweat. Connor raised his hand to move it aside instinctively, but forced himself to stop with his lips pursing into a straight line, as the hairs only cascaded further with her movement, and as the feeling in her grew more evident. 

Connor worried, for the first time about her, being worried was not a pleasant feeling. As if each harsh breath he took, it burnt his chest.   
A breath he didn’t know he could even halt from escaping his throat lingered, instead of leaving her be, Connor grazed his paper-white knuckles across her loosening maw. Before she could return with a remark, she had found herself unraveled of the emotion, leaning into the featherlight touches.  
Connors softness was his greatest asset, and her profound weakness. The simple graze against her battered skin sent a wave of butterflies coursing through her veins, their fluttering wings eased her dread, nearly making her forget the cause of it just staring within Connors doe-brown eyes. Although it perplexed her, how such a simple show of affection from him could make such an impact, or why it did, she maintained that wry face. 

She turned her gaze to see his shoulders raise in the gloom, his lips parting as he pulled a chair next to her, as if trying to say something, but with reluctance. 

Sometimes she thought that Connor could see the agony swirling within her brain, thats why he and her were so close, that an android would do easily understand a human. Connor listened to her as if the stories and ideas she had were true and held answers. Although they did not, it was only her emotions that were driving her words, she thought that the android was just being polite as she didn’t think he even had the capability to dismiss anyone hastily, though the LED against his temple was swirling molten gold with each sentence spilling out of her, words seeping with ferocity and lost hope. 

‘It was no ones fault detective, and it certainly was not yours, no one ever saw it that way.’ Connor reached into his pocket, pulling out a cloth and dabbed it gently over her blood-worn face as if she were age old, nebulous glass. Perilous and brittle. 

‘You really...do you really think so, Connor?’ She spoke, wiping her tears with her sleeve. Hoarse and brass, a faint echo in the house ridded of its noise when her tone faltered into its quivering.   
Connor would have been lying to himself if he said that she had not perturbed him. In the usual days, he would have seen nothing but raw braw and a strong-willed face, not the scars of littered tears amongst her expression, certainly not those wounds caused by an asshole like Gavin Reed.   
And it was agonizing to imagine what she was going through with her devoid stare combined with her grief-stricken mood. 

Even so, Connor would still follow her around like a lost puppy, sometimes closing his eyes in bliss by the mere sound of her voice or shoes clicking against the DPD’s tiled floors. Or when he caught her scent lingering within the wind, he’d sometimes reach his hands and curl it around the frigid breeze, even if she were not there, or even if she did not respond, he found rapture in those thoughts or lingering feelings. 

‘No detective. I don’t think so.’ Connor said, and couldn’t help but allow a smile but to form amongst his lovely features in an effort to ease her.   
‘I know so. If it were anyone’s fault, it were the shooters, I can assure you detective, his death was never your fault. No one could’ve stopped it.’   
Perhaps it was her fault that the child had died, that if she were quicker, more efficient, that he would have been home wrapped in his loved ones arms. She thought so anyway, with another whisper of her name, she turned around, her swollen eyes in a struggle to withhold tears, but like a broken dam wall, water spilled down her face. 

She sobbed into his chest, dampening his grey coat while clutching at his jacket. Connor held her in silence, rubbing the pad of his fingers against her back. A tiny lapse let her pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears, before she collapsed against him again. The pain must have come in waves, minutes of light sobbing broken apart by short pauses of recovering breath, before hurling herself into the androids outstretched arms of her grief. 

There was a rawness to her crying, and it made Connors copper heart stutter for a moment, again when he felt her flush against his chest. She looked up at him again, her puffy red face drenched with it mere inches apart from his own. Connor pursed his lips, something that was more akin to being human he had picked up, and hugged her again. 

When she blew out hot words, his words were ice on a summers day, taking her heat and making it less fiery. She noticed, that when others would have tried to be her solace, it took long for her to calm down. Yet, Connor could’ve have told her panic to shut up, and she’d ease. She didn’t know how Connor did it, and so effortlessly enough. 

But the thought of it made her smile, the deep curve of her dandy lips made Connors eyesight blur, the LED residing against his temple flickered from blue to a deep yellow as he took within the expression, it made him giddy. Noticing this, she reached and placed a gentle kiss against his cheek, her soft and chaste lips felt like static against his synthetic skin. He felt himself churn, and his components heat as he looked at her while resting her forehead against his heaving chest.

He grinned, faltering to notice the marks and bruises scattered like rays on her face, and rather saw the person he had fallen so deeply for.  
‘Oh Connor...’ She said, with a tone that still quivered as her tears were still fresh from her glassy and periwinkle eyes. 

‘What would I ever do without you?’


End file.
